LEBANESE FOOD IN THE MISSISSIPPI DELTA

The Kitchen Sisters aired a new piece on NPR this morning called "Kibbe at the Crossroads" about Lebanese food in the Mississippi Delta. They spoke to Pat Davis of Abe's Bar-B-Q in Clarksdale, whom I interviewed a few years ago for the Tamale Trail; Chafik Chamoun from Chamoun's Rest Haven, also in Clarksdale, where Kurt and I ate last Saturday; and my friend and colleague Jimmy Thomas, who's Lebanese and wrote his Southern Studies thesis on the history of the Lebanese in the Delta. It's a fantastic show, so make sure to check it out. And get ready for a kibbe craving.

THE WORLD RECYCLED

I happened upon the work of Shannon Rankin on Flickr just yesterday. After scouring her collection of photographs, I popped on over to her Etsy shop, where I found this lovely creation. From her Flickr profile:

In search of connections among geography, anatomy and botany, I combine the visual elements of maps, anatomical illustrations and natural forms to explore themes of travel, healing and time.

Maps depicting mountain ranges, roads, lakes and rivers resemble internal biological features, reproductive anatomy, skeletal structures and networks of the human body. Symbols of cities become acupuncture points, and meridian lines, like rivers, represent an internal system of communication and transport. Geometric seed patterns made of globe-like pieces of map reference small worlds, suggesting the potential for a broader landscape. The ephemeral nature of maps speaks to the fragility and transitory state of our lives and surroundings.

Her work is so immediate, so thoughtful. I am especially fond of her pieces that incorporate embroidery. I purchased the collage pictured here, though, because, as you might guess, I am a sucker for the ledger paper and that "120" up in the corner.

Shannon's work makes me think of jeweler Kim Young, whom I met at the the Kentuck Festival in October. Much of her work incorporates pieces of tin globes. I couldn't resist her creations, either. I have three pieces of her jewelry, a pair of earrings made from parts of tin globes included.

Which makes me think: I just ordered a GPS navigator. The days of paper maps and tin globes will soon be a thing of the past. The good news, though, is that there's more material out there for artists to use in their work. Recycle on.

One of my very favorite exhibitions ever is the "Recycled Re-seen: Folk Art From the Global Scrap Heap" that was at Santa Fe's Museum of International Folk Art (also one of my very favorite museums). Check it out online or get the show catalog. You'll never look at trash the same way again.

FOR THE LOVE OF TACO TRUCKS

Taco Truck | Santa Fe, NM | 2007

Taco trucks in Carrboro, North Carolina, are in danger of disappearing. A friend emailed me this article in the Carrboro Citizen today, which describes the threat against purveyors of handmade Latino street food there. One of the taco trucks in jeopardy stands next to Cliff's Meat Market. I interviewed Cliff last summer. He's an incredible guy, and he's doing quite a lot for both the local community and that of the growing immigrant population. He's allowed Tolo, one of his Latino employees, to operate a taco truck in his parking lot on weekends, so he can make extra money to support his family. I had a few tacos al pastor and Mexican Cokes (made with cane sugar, not high-fructose corn syrup) from Tolo's truck. It would be crime to have him move his business--or worse, resort to closing his kitchen. If I lived in Carrboro, I might be staging a sit-in right about now.


Tacos al Pastor | Santa Fe, NM | 2007

I grew up in Houston, Texas, and I've eaten a lot of tacos. If taco trucks were to disappear from the streets of the fourth largest city in the country, there would be hell to pay. Check out this great article on Houston's many taco trucks by Robb Walsh to learn more. There are some great photographs there, too.

Carrboro doesn't know what it has.

Support your local tacos trucks! And have a few for me.

DELTA DOGS

Kurt, Jackson, and I hightailed it to the Delta on Saturday. Clarksdale, to be more specific. Our friend Jessie was in town from the coast for her birthday extravaganza at the Shack Up Inn, and we popped on over to spread some birthday joy--and get our retail on.

Before even meeting up with Miss Jessie, we headed on over to Cat Head Delta Blues and Folk Art to say howdy to Roger and pick up a few things (I always pick up a few things at Cat Head). First things first, we grabbed David Lee Durham's CD Struggling and Straining. Even though we've lost Mr. Durham, we still have his music and boy, is his music and wonderful thing. Then we picked up some t-shirts, a couple of glasses, a mini face jug, and a chainsaw sculpture of a dog--or is it a pig? There's been some disagreement, but everyone agrees that, whatever it is, it's definitely awesome. J. L. Nipper up in Hoodoo, Tennessee, made it. Maybe I should get him to chime in and settle the debate. For the record, I think it's a dog.

From Cat Head, we drove on down to Chamoun's Rest Haven for a snack of raw kibbie (no cringing, it's awesome) and stuffed grape leaves. Unfortunately for me, they were out of tabouli. They make some killer tabouli.

Then, finally, we met up with Jessie and crew at the Delta Blues Museum, where there were more dogs on display. Delta photographer and friend Maude Schuyler Clay's Delta Dog series of photographs are currently on exhibit at the museum. Maude is best known for her incredible book, Delta Land, which is a collection of sepia photographs that beautifully document the Delta landscape. Her dog series grew out of that work.

Before long, it was time for us and our dogs (real and sculptural) to load up and head back to Oxford. We put David Lee Durham on the stereo and watched the sun set behind us as we waved the Delta goodbye. But not for long. I think I'll be heading back that way this weekend--to Indianola this time. I'll let you know if I come across any more dogs.

LOSS

David Lee Durham--Delta musician and good friend--died yesterday. He was 65. I've known Mr. Durham since I came to Mississippi almost seven years ago. I first met him at my friend Mary Hartwell's father's house in Shaw, MS. Then, as a graduate student who was quickly becoming obsessed with the Mississippi Delta, I learned that Mr. Durham was a blues musician and played at Club Ebony in Indianola every Sunday night. In the intervening years, I've heard him play many nights at the club and on other stages throughout the Delta, I interviewed him for the Mississippi Arts Commission's Mississippi Folklife and Folk Artist Directory, and he performed for our friends and family on the day of our wedding (the photograph above was taken late that night at Club Ebony). David Lee Durham was a charming, giving and talented man. I am honored to have known him and his music. He will be missed. Visit his website to learn more about the music and the Mississippi Folklife and Folk Artist Directory to learn more about the man.

More sad news this week: on Sunday, Mr. Imagination's house and studio were devastated by fire. I last saw Mr. Imagination at the Kentuck Festival in the fall. He's shown with my gallery in Houston, Koelsch Gallery, for ages. I've always loved his work--his community art projects, in particular. Read The Morning Call's article about the fire here. Learn more about Mr. Imagination and his work here. See more images of his work right here. *UPDATE: A blog has been created to keep Mr. Imagination's friends and admirers up to date regarding the fire and recovery efforts. There's also info on where to send cards, donations and other offers of support. (Thanks, Greg.)

The image at left is of one of Mr. Imagination's bottle cap sculptures. It seems an appropriate image to illustrate such loss: a guitar for a musician who has passed on from the imagination of a self-taught artist--a comforting kind of collaboration.


IMAGES:
Me with David Lee Durham by Lisa Benitez.

Mr. Imagination by Betty E. Cauler, Allentown Morning Call

Guitar by Mr. Imagination courtesy of Koelsch Gallery

A SCRUMPTIOUS MID-DAY SURPRISE

Kurt surprised me at work today with a bouquet of flowers and a delicious lunch: Caesar salad, humus, pita bread, olives with peppers and garlic, stuffed grape leaves, and two kinds of soup. Now that's my kind of surprise. Hallelujah! Thanks, my love. XOXOXOXO

PRISON ART IN LOUISVILLE

On my last day in Louisville, I paid a visit to the new hipster hotel downtown, 21 C. Not to book a room, but to look at some art. A lot of art, as it turns out. From their website:

21c Museum Hotel in Louisville, KY is the first of its kind — a 91-room hotel dedicated to world class luxuries, Southern-style hospitality and contemporary art from living artists. The hotel features a 9,000 square foot contemporary art museum managed by the 21c Museum Foundation. This stunning collection of cutting-edge art inspired the naming of this property and influenced the creation of the museum and hotel.

The joint was a little too swanky for my tastes, but the museum element was certainly interesting, especially the video installation in the bathroom. Yeah. But the most interesting thing to catch my eye was the exhibition of work by self-taught artist Marvin Francis. In the gallery was a collection of come fifteen or so figures and dioramas that he created from his cell at the Kentucky State Penitentiary. Again, from the 21 C website:

Prison's Paper Trail is a retrospective of sculptures by the self-taught artist Marvin Francis that allows the viewer an insight into the artist‘s life from the inside. Incarcerated in the Kentucky State Penitentiary since 1986, Francis reveals not only a deep awareness of his imprisoned life, but also projects back into the past as he exhibits a hopeful yearning into the future. Using only the limited materials of toilet paper, wood, glue, and acrylic paint, he allows the viewer a glimpse of the political issues of capital punishment, the infrequent satirical humor of prison life, and faith in the power of memory and redemption. Being a child-abuse survivor, his work is meant for a personal healing process and a universal enlightenment – ultimately, it is a symbol for a sense of atonement and shows the triumph of the human soul.

The very next day, on my drive home to Mississippi, I was listening to a Splendid Table podcast, when Jane and Michael Stern came on to talk about barbecue in West Virginia. Their subject was Hocutt's Carolina Barbecue in Moundsville--a barbecue joint right across from the West Virginia State Prison. Now that's interesting enough, but then the Sterns went on to talk about their enthusiasm for prison gift shops. Prison gift shops?! If there's a prison that satisfies a certain retail need, it would be this one. After searching on the Internet, I came to find out that the West Virgina State Prison is quite a marketing machine. They offer night tours, flashlight tours, ghost hunts, ghost hunting classes, and something called "Do Hard Time." Not your run of the mill family vacation.

I've written about prison art before, but this news of prison gift shops has me agog. I might have to take a detour or two the next time I hit the road.

HE GOT MILK

I've been meaning to make mention of one of the gifts I gave Kurt over the holidays: an original painting of a glass of milk by Linda O'Neil. I actually purchased the thing months ago. As soon as I saw it on Linda's website, I knew it was the perfect thing for a guy who a.) grew up on a dairy farm b.) appreciates art and c.) can drink a gallon of milk--whole milk--in a day. Needless to say, he loved it.

Linda is a blogging friend of mine all the way out in Colorado. She does all kinds of work--still lifes, abstracts, pet portraits--and it's all joyous and bursting with color. And her dog, Maisie, is bursting with energy. Meet Maisie on Linda's blog.

Thanks for the beautiful painting, Miss Linda!

I MISS THE SPRING ROLLS ALREADY

I'm back from Louisville and craving more spring rolls. I try to load up on the ethnic food every time I head anywhere bigger than Oxford. Yeah, there's an Indian buffet here, some Mediterranean food, and a hint of sushi, but it's Vietnamese food that I constantly crave. I had it twice in Louisville, in addition to some pistachio soup at a Persian restaurant (golly, was that good), and a red curry at a Thai place. And yes, it all went well with bourbon.

If you're interested in the interviews I collected in Louisville, they'll be online sometime this spring.

If you know someone who'd like to open a Vietnamese restaurant in north Mississippi, get in touch.

WHAT I CRAVE

So much has happened this week that I feel like I've been in Louisville for a month, not three days. Tuesday is a blur. But yesterday's doings are still fresh and definitely worth sharing.

I agreed to take Pableaux to the airport but not before we had breakfast. We stopped into the Twig and Leaf (obvious bit of inspiration there) for plates piled high with eggs, biscuits, country ham and twig sticks (read: tater tots). We chatted up Miss Bonnie as we sipped and sopped. I asked her, "Why the name Twig and Leaf?" Her response involved mention of a strip club. I'll leave it at that.

After the airport run, I breezed through a day of interviews all over town (and a Vietnamese food lunch!) with the help of Pableaux's handy GPS gadget that he loaned me. Best. Loan. Ever. I'm hooked. And with all the time I spend on the road, you'd better believe I'll be getting one of these things real soon. Thanks, Pableaux!

The day's interviews were wonderful: the history of the Old Fashioned at the Pendennis Club, memories of legendary bartender Max Allen at the Seelbach, and cocktails, cocktails and more cocktails made by Edward and Jerry at the Seelbach. Edward's Old Fashioned is pictured here. But if you belly up to his bar, make sure to order a Whiskey Sour. And if you belly up to Jerry's bar, ask for a Bufala Negra: basil, balsamic vinegar, ginger ale and Buffalo Trace bourbon. Need I say more?

And what do you do after an afternoon filled with fancy cocktails? Why, head to a bar, of course. I spent the evening with my new friends over at Check's Cafe, where there were plenty of stories, laughs, and lies being shared. Billy the bartender had a club soda waiting for me when I sat down, and Mr. Tinker--Schnitzelburg's Number One Citizen--gave me a couple of t-shirts. I feel like a regular already.

There were some new guys (to me, anyway) sitting at the bar: Josh, Dan and Carl. The first thing to come out of Josh's mouth after I introduced myself was, "I love White Castle!" And he does. He has a tattoo to prove it: the White Castle logo with "What I Crave" written beneath. When I asked him if I could photograph it, Billy told him to put his other arm in the picture, so I'd know where I was. That arm, of course, has the Louisville cardinal, mascot of the University of Louisville. By the way, Josh's record for number of White Castle burgers eaten at one time? Sixteen.

It was a long day but a wonderful one, filled with great stories and good people--what I crave.

A DAY OF BEANS AND BANTER

My first day in Louisville was most productive and yes, filled with beans.

I stopped in Check's Cafe in the Schnitzelburg neighborhood in Germantown for lunch. I had read about this local joint, which is known for its bean soup (and chili and fish sandwiches and brats). I'm glad I did. The soup was wonderful--the perfect meal for a cold, snowy day. That, and it only set me back a buck eighty-five.


For dinner, I headed over to my friend Pableaux's house. Pableaux just moved to Louisville from New Orleans and brought his red-beans-and-rice-on-Monday-nights tradition with him. Joining us at the table were friends and fellow SFAers, filling up on good food and lots of laughter. And, dare I say, a little bit of moonshine.

Before dinner, though, I went back to Check's to visit with some folks I'd heard about at lunch: Billy the bartender and Mr. Tinker, a Check's regular and Schnitzelburg's Number One Citizen. I'll be interviewing them both tomorrow--after I have another bowl of that bean soup.

GOOD MORNING, LOUISVILLE

I greeted my first morning in Louisville with a long walk down Frankfort Avenue. The sky was dark and heavy with snow; the air smelled of coffee. The streets were quiet, stores dark. And then there was Oscar's Hardware. Neon looks spectacular in this grey morning light--almost like dusk, but your body knows the day is just beginning.

And it is. I'll be bellying up to the bar at The Bristol for my first interview today.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Driving along the Pontchartrain Expressway in New Orleans, 2006

On the road again, a great Willie Nelson tune and the reality of my world at the moment. Quick on the heels of our road trip to Michigan, I've hopped in my trusty Saturn wagon once again and hit the highway, heading north. This time my destination is Louisville, Kentucky (only three more hours to my friend Shannon in Kokomo, Indiana--oh, the temptation!). I'm here on assignment, documenting bartenders--a welcome break from bbq, I must say. With any luck, this oral history project will be as fun and rewarding as the Bartenders of New Orleans project I did a few years ago. Oh, heck yeah. This is bourbon country after all.

Check back tomorrow for some stories from the road.

IT'S A WRAP!

Weather wrap, that is. There are walls! There's a roof! Very exciting. Granted, there's quite a lot--a ton, really--left to do, but this is huge progress. Until we get the cypress siding in, Kurt can work on the interior. First, though, of course, and weather providing, he'll put the steel on the roof. What a man, that Kurt Streeter. Thank you, my love, for making my studio dreams come true.















More new pics of the progress right here.

FOR THE LOVE OF PANCAKES

Y'all know how much I love pancakes. Well, as it turns out, I don't love them as much as some people. I'll have you know that the picture at left is a tattoo. Yep. And it was done by a guy by the name of Johnny Jackson in my hometown of Houston, TX. Incredible work (that I came across by accident, by the way). I'm sure curious to know who gets a tattoo of Aunt Jemima and a stack of pancakes--and where, exactly, these pancakes are located.

Pass the syrup.

FINDING LOVE IN TERRE HAUTE

I've been part of the iPod generation for a mere three months, and I've listened to what seems like a gazillion podcasts. I was always kind of confused by the podcast thing, but I'm now officially hooked. I can't get enough. I've listened to every episode of This American Life (some more than once), and I am trying to catch up with the others I subscribe to that have--gasp--daily programs. There's just not enough time to listen to them all. But it didn't take long for me to realize that podcasts are made for road trips.

When I'm on the road, I catch up on my favorite podcasts: This American Life, All Songs Considered, and Fresh Air. But in preparation for our long haul to Michigan, I added some shows to my list, namely Car Talk and Democracy Now. Humor and Politics, a good balance. Unfortunately, though, we only got three episodes of Car Talk and about a million episodes of Democracy Now. Click and Clack were cycled through pretty quickly. So on our drive back to Mississippi, we dipped into the bag of politics.

About eight or so hours into our trip, Amy Goodman's voiced chirped up, and so did I. She was introducing her guest, friend and colleague Dave Isay, founder of Sound Portraits and StoryCorps. In other words, the contemporary King of Oral History. The new Studs Terkel. A collector of stories. Like me. I couldn't help but get excited. The December 3 interview was about the book/CD component of Isay's national StoryCorp project: Listening Is an Act of Love. He was there to talk about people, not politics. I sat in the car, riveted, all the way to Terre Haute.

Once we hit Terre Haute, we pulled off for coffee. It had been a long day, and we still had dinner ahead of us. And where else do you pull off for coffee when you're on a road trip but Starbucks. As soon as we walked in the door, and while Kurt was ordering our drinks, I made my way to the holiday sale display (it's a natural instinct). And there it was: Listening Is an Act of Love on the top shelf. Not only that, it was the "deluxe gift collection" (which contains a companion booklet about doing oral history and a CD of interviews). And it was mine. From podcast to purchase in less than an hour. Now that's instant gratification. It's also kind of creepy. But mostly, it's satisfying. I love it when the universe aligns itself to bring you and things and places and moments together like that. And I love this book.

ONE STEP CLOSER TO A ROOF

We have rafters!

It rained on Saturday, but yesterday was absolutely gorgeous, so Kurt and I (yep, I helped--a little) were able to get back to work on my new studio. Oh, the satisfaction! Kurt's back on the job today, so I do believe this thing might be roofed and walled by week's end. Unless, of course, that crazy sixty-degree-and-rainy weather rears its ugly head again. This is January, right?

You can see a few more pictures of the building site right here.

ART OPENING THIS WEEKEND IN NEW ORLEANS

One of my photographs was chosen to be included in BECA Gallery's inaugural exhibition, which opens tomorrow.

For its inaugural exhibit BECA gallery presents the 'Gulf South Regional Contemporary Art Exhibit' from January 5 - 31, 2008. Please join us for the opening reception taking place on January 5, 2008 from 6pm-9pm. The purpose of the 'Gulf South Regional Contemporary Art Exhibit' is to discover and highlight new emerging Gulf South contemporary artists, their current work and the ideas that are motivating their creative processes. This group exhibition will feature new works by some of the most engaging visual artists residing in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida who work in 2-D and 3-D mediums. One artist from this group exhibition has been chosen for a future solo exhibit and details will be announced to the public on January 5th.

Check it out, if you're in the area.

THE SOUL OF THE DELTA

Eugene Johnson outside Fannie's Cafe in Yazoo City, MS

An article I wrote on Delta soul food appears in the new (Jan./Feb.) issue of Delta Magazine. I profiled a handful of places, but Fannie's Cafe in Yazoo City was a standout. Since I'm sure it will be hard to get your hands on a copy unless you're in Mississippi, here's a little taste:

There’s a little grey box of a building set back from the street in residential neighborhood on the outskirts of Yazoo City. A Lincoln Town Car sits in the shade of a tree. A red vinyl chair waits beside the door for someone to sit. Inside, the daylight disappears, and you walk into a Birney Imes photograph: red walls and a turquoise ceiling, a pool table lit from above, and a DJ booth in the back. There’s no music, no one playing pool. But a movie is on the TV behind the bar, and the smell of homemade food floats from the kitchen. A woman comes out to take your order, “You want two teas or dessert?”

Horace Johnson is a native of Yazoo City. In 1968 he, along with many other black Deltans, headed north to Chicago in search of a better life. There he met his wife, Fannie, a native of Texas. In 1981 they returned to Horace’s home state to be reunited with his family. For a year they worked separate jobs. Then in 1982 a small club on West Madison Street came up for sale. They bought the building and opened Fannie’s Café.














Lunch at Fannie's Cafe in Yazoo City, MS

NEW YEAR :: OLD BARN

Nine days in Michigan. In December. This was a first for me. Kurt hadn't spent a Christmas in his home state since we met (ahem, that would be going on five years ago), so it was about time we made the trek. And I'll tell you, I enjoyed it. Yes, it was cold. No, I don't know how to drive in that blustery Midwestern weather. But there's something about being on a farm, the ground covered with snow, the wind biting at your nose, that is satisfying. And our week spent on the farm was restorative. But there won't be any restoration of the barn.

Kurt suspects the barn on the family farm was built about 150 years ago. It's sure put in a good run. Millions of square bales have been stored within its bright red walls, thousands of cows have given their milk in stalls down below, and many teenager has done secret things under its roof. Today, though, the bales are round, there aren't any more dairy cows, and those teenagers are all grown up.


Still, there are a few cows on the farm (beef cattle these days), and there are a few broken bales of hay in the barn. But that grand construction of beams, planks, and stones is not long for this world. Since it hasn't been filled with hay each season, its walls are giving in; strong gusts of wind blowing across the fields aren't helping. So the barn will come down. I spent our holiday documenting it and everything around it because that's what I do.

All will not be lost, however. When the barn does finally come down, the beams and foundation stones will make their way to Mississippi. And so will a cow.

Happy New Year.